World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

After the chief of staff left, Rodman raised his binoculars again. Through the lens, the sailors of the USS Arizona were conducting a fire drill on deck. Most of these young men were not yet twenty-five. Did they know that war might be coming? Did they know that the steel behemoth beneath their feet might soon be heading to a real battlefield?

The phone rang. Rodman answered it.

"Lieutenant General Rodman, this is Lansing," the Secretary of State's voice came from Washington. "The President has asked me to personally check on the preparations for the reception."

"Everything is ready, Mr. Secretary. Fleet display, honor guard, welcoming banquet, security arrangements... every detail has been checked three times."

"Very good. The President particularly emphasized that the atmosphere of this meeting is very important. It is necessary to demonstrate the strength and determination of the United States, while also showing an open and respectful attitude. Chen Feng is not one of those hereditary nobles in Europe; he is a self-made pragmatist who respects strength but also despises arrogance."

"I see."

"There's one more thing," Lansing said, lowering his voice. "The British ambassador came to see me last night and expressed 'concern.' They said that Lanfang sold weapons to Germany during the war, and Chen Feng's trip might be on Berlin's orders to sabotage Meilika's participation in the war."

Rodman frowned: "Do we have any evidence?"

"There is no direct evidence. But British intelligence has provided some 'indirect clues'—Lanfang's military cooperation with Germany was indeed very close. The president's intention is to remain vigilant, but not to take a preconceived stance. Let Chen Feng speak, and we will listen."

"What if he persuades the president to postpone entering the war?"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

"That's the decision the president needs to make," Lansing finally said. "We have all the options ready. If the president decides to postpone, we need a respectable reason. If he decides to go to war, we need a clear target. In either case, you have to make sure the situation in Hawaii is completely under control."

"clear."

After hanging up the phone, Rodman walked to the window on the other side of the office. From here, he could see the waterway at the entrance to Pearl Harbor, a narrow channel flanked by towering cliffs that formed a natural defensive barrier. More than a hundred years ago, the Kingdom of Hawaii welcomed Western explorers here with canoes; now, Miraka was welcoming Asia's emerging power here with battleships.

History goes through cycles, but each cycle brings a new look.

There was a knock on the door, and this time it was a special envoy from the Naval Intelligence Office who entered—a major in his forties with a serious expression.

"Lieutenant General, this is the newly compiled assessment report on Lanfang's military strength." The major handed over a thick folder. "It includes their naval expansion plans, army organization... Some of the data is disturbing."

Rodman took the report and quickly flipped through it. The figures were very detailed: a plan to expand the army by ten divisions, a complete industrial system, and daily oil production exceeding 40,000 barrels…

"Has this data been verified?"

"Partially verified, partly based on intelligence analysis. But conservatively estimated, Lanfang's military potential has surpassed that of Japan in Asia, and could even be said to be second only to our country, Mexico, in the world, and its growth rate is extremely rapid. More importantly—" the major turned to the last page, "their industrial system is completely independent and does not rely on external supply chains. This means that even if war breaks out, they can continue to produce."

Rodman closed the report. The document confirmed his intuition: Chen Feng hadn't come empty-handed; he was backed by the strength of an entire nation.

"What are their diplomatic stances? Besides neutrality, what other inclinations do they have?"

"Pragmatism," the major replied. "They sell weapons to Germany, but also supply oil to Britain; they criticize European colonialism, but they themselves are expanding their influence in the Persian Gulf and Southeast Asia. Everything is driven by self-interest."

"So, what are their interests this time?"

The major hesitated for a moment: "We believe it's about timing. Lanfang's economy is highly dependent on wartime needs; if the war ends suddenly, they will face a severe recession. So they need the war to continue, but not to escalate to the point of involving them as well. The best-case scenario is that Europe remains deadlocked, Asia maintains relative peace, and they can do business on both sides and build up their strength."

"So Chen Feng is here to buy time."

"Yes. But the question is, what terms can he offer? Why would Melika postpone her own strategy to meet Lanfang's economic needs?"

Rodman looked out the window. In the harbor, a tugboat was adjusting the berth of the USS Oklahoma, stirring up white whirlpools on the water. Just like international politics, the surface was calm, but the undercurrents were turbulent.

"Get the recording equipment ready," he told the major. "All conversations during the meeting must be recorded in full. Also, arrange for the best lip-readers, so that even if we can't record the conversation, we still know what they were saying."

"It's already arranged, Lieutenant General. And..." the Major lowered his voice, "British intelligence has offered to 'assist' in obtaining the meeting's contents through some 'technical means'."

Rodman's face darkened. "Reply to them: Melika is capable of handling her own intelligence work. Also, notify the counterintelligence department to increase surveillance. The British shouldn't get too cocky on our soil."

"Yes."

After the major left, Rodman stood alone in his office. The setting sun cast golden rays across Pearl Harbor, stretching the warships' silhouettes into long shadows. At this time tomorrow, Lanfang's fleet would enter reconnaissance range; a few days later, the giant ship named "Huaihe" would sail into this harbor.

At that time, the representatives of the two countries will shake hands here. One represents the most isolated republic in the world, being pushed into a war it does not want to be involved in; the other represents the youngest country in the world, trying to forge its own path amidst the great powers.

What will they discuss? What will they achieve? What will change?

Rodman didn't know the answer. He only knew that, as a soldier, his duty was to be prepared—to prepare for peace and to prepare for war.

He picked up the phone: "Connect to air station. Report every two hours after the reconnaissance planes take off. I need to know every move of the Lanfang fleet."

Outside the window, a PBY seaplane lifted off the sea, turned west, and disappeared into the afterglow of the setting sun.

The reconnaissance has begun.

January 19, 1 Downing Street, London.

Prime Minister Asquith sat in his study, holding a newly arrived telegram. It was an urgent report from British Ambassador to the United States, Spring Rice: The fleet of Chen Feng, the Grand Commander of the Lanfang regime, had entered the Pacific and was expected to arrive in Hawaii in six days; President Wilson confirmed the meeting would proceed as planned; public opinion in Victoria was boiling over due to Zimmerman's telegram, but the White House seemed to be deliberately controlling the rate of escalation.